Blood and Magick
by FemaleSpock
Summary: Morgana doesn't belong in Camelot anymore; she escaped that cage. Multiple pairings referenced.


Blood and Magick

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Merlin and I make no money from this fanfiction.**

Morgana woke up to the sound of rain pattering softly outside, an unusual sound, it rarely rained in Camelot. Which made sense since she wasn't in Camelot. She knew before she opened her eyes, the air felt so much easier, more dusty, but less oppressive. It had been years since she last felt free.

She opened her eyes to see an unfamiliar room that strangely familiar, like coming home. The room was all brown and dark gold, a bustling room, with objects scattered around on every surface in a seemingly arbitrary fashion. Looking closer Morgana could see amongst them implements of magick, just sitting there, out in the open. It would take some getting used to.

She doesn't get up immediately, just looks around her, wiping the sleep from her eyes. She tries to think, tries to remember and suddenly it hits her. Her last memory before waking up here.

Merlin's face. He poisoned her, she remembers this but she can't quite process it, it just felt like a distant dream, her whole life in Camelot felt like some slowly fading nightmare. She felt like she was waking up for the first time.

She doesn't know what happens, what happened next but she can guess. She could feel Morgause's essence, it's so obvious, in every part of the room. Camelot was always so cold, so sterile; perhaps that was how Uther had wanted it to be.

She pulled herself out of bed, cautiously, she didn't yet feel strong, the poison had made her weak. She was surprised that her bare feet on the floor aren't cold in the slightest. She found her feet and started to walk, it felt surreal, like it was the first time.

She walked down the hall, slowly, greedily drinking in every last detail. There were a lot of doors and she dithered as to which one to choose. Morgause made it simple by appearing in the corridor, calmly, as if she had been waiting for this precise moment.

"Welcome home, sister," she said, a genuine smile dancing across her lips.

Morgana sighed with relief for finally knowing where she belonged.

Morgause trained her for months in all the arts of magick and Morgana studied eagerly. Magick felt right, it was natural, she knew that now. She was a quick study, she could do anything she set her mind to. Morgause also schooled her again in the arts of fighting, going far beyond what she had learnt back when she used to train with Arthur so long ago.

She loved her life with Morgause, it was simple, there was no pretence or pomp. Their bond was natural, instinctive, it was the bond of blood and magick. Before that she had always been on show, watched by thousands of eyes, waiting for her to slip up. She used to be so proper, she used to live a captive life, that the bars were painted lurid gold and encrusted with diamonds didn't change that she was living in a cage. Away from there she was free.

It had to come to an end. Morgana knew that but she bitterly resented it. She had advanced leaps and bounds in controlling her magick, in understanding it. It was only natural that she would have to go back to Camelot. Necessary. Didn't mean she wanted to.

She knew from the minute she returned that she didn't fit, the sun beating down, shining just like the day she left, she felt more out of place that she ever had before, perhaps it was just out in the open. She was just there for revenge, for justice, she didn't need or want to be accepted back in. Or so she told herself.

She didn't make her presence known, not immediately. She watched though. Nothing much had changed. She gathered followers, amongst common folk, waiting for her time to strike. Part of the reason she hesitated was because she was unsure, Morgause had given her no instructions, allowing her to take the course she thought best. Her first real test. Perhaps another part of it was not wanting to destroy Camelot, the place that held her bad memories, and her old friends. Uther not amongst them, she should have killed him the first time she had the chance but he'd tricked her, she'd make sure he would never do that again.

It was strange, being on the other side; so many times she'd been vaguely aware of some witch or creature threatening Camelot, threatening Uther really. She'd done little but stand by then.

She didn't curse Camelot. Camelot was already cursed; Camelot was cursed with love. Everyone loved everyone else. Real love, the type that burnt, that left scars. She remembered when that had been her. She'd had Uther whom she'd loved as a father and Arthur who had she'd occasionally loved as more than a brother. She'd had her maidservant Gwen, her constant companion, her faithful lover. Merlin had been appeared from out of the blue but Morgana had immediately trusted him, there was a solidarity there, something that Merlin had refused to acknowledge. And there had been knights, other flirtations, minor dalliances.

It made her laugh to see them now, it was so tragic. She could see Gwen and Arthur, stumbling into love, Arthur so loved to play the martyr, the tragic lover. She could see Merlin and Arthur, doing their strange and awkward dance; Merlin pushed Arthur into Gwen's arms, blustering, covering for his own uncomfortable truths and Arthur stood by and let him. Gwen pined for someone else too, someone far away, Morgana couldn't quite see him, there was something so hazy and obscure about the mystery man.

Morgana had planned on a rebellion, it was justification for lingering, for prolonging her staying there despite the fact that she so desperately wanted to go home. In then end there was no revolt, just her. She came to Uther's room, making him jump in shock. There was no need to involve anyone else.

Because Uther didn't belong there either, he was just a relic, clinging to a regime that had long outlived its purpose. He looked older to her, more grey, and tired. No words were exchanged that night. He looked at her with weary eyes, practically begging for death. Morgana met those eyes and looking into them squarely took a dagger and plunged it cleanly into his gut. No magick, it wasn't needed, he didn't struggle.

He fell and Arthur was crowned King. Morgana didn't stay for the coronation, she left quickly, down the path that led away from places she had been.

**The end! Please review, I love hearing feedback. **


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